Potter's Revenge
by daled73
Summary: What happens when the "powers that be" decide the Hero shouldn't be allowed to upset any pureblood apple carts?


Things had been unnaturally quite in the Wizarding World for several days, since the initial "Voldemort is Dead" Party had finally wound down. Pretty much everyone seemed to be exhausted, emotionally and magically. So it came as a total shock when "red alert" alarms began sounding throughout St. Mungo's Hospital.

The express Emergency Healer Team portkeyed to the source of the problem without even knowing where they were going. They found themselves standing in the muggle half of what had been The Leaky Cauldron, looking at … well … nothing, so to speak.

The back half of the Leaky, which actually occupied Diagon Alley territory, was gone. The Cauldron had sprung a leak that would never be plugged, this time.  
The dividing line was as sharp as if it had been cut by a muggle razor blade. Beyond lay a sheet of smoking, cracking, cooling glass….or so it appeared.

The typical wizard had never paid any attention to Hiroshima or Nagasaki, if they had even heard of them, as it was all "muggle business". Tunguska, they had never heard of for any reason. One or two muggle-born healers knew what they were looking at, the others had no clue.

Beyond the ruined walls of the Pub an evil colored mushroom cloud rose into the stratosphere.

But still it made no sense as even a tiny "pony" nuclear device should have vaporized far more territory than the Alley consisted of and the destruction should NOT have stopped neatly, at the exact lines of the ward stones around the Alley.

As the Healers picked their way across the cooling, cracking glass surface of what had been the center of Wizarding Britain, they began to hear whimpers coming from where the Ministry Building had stood. That, too, was impossible, as nothing should have lived through the blast nor the ensuing firestorm. Living tissue should have been vaporized before it could know what had hit it. All they could do was call it "magic", for there lay several bodies. All were badly burned and yet living in pain which would make the Cruciatus look like a nice relaxing massage.

Later it would be found that seemingly the "missing" damage from the explosion had somehow found ways to express itself within the ward-stone boundaries of Malfoy Manor and every other Death Eater owned home and business in all of the UK, including Northern Ireland. There, too, bodies were found living, or at least existing.

Strangely they all shared a common mark, a portion of skin on either chest of back, which was unburned, except for the letters of the text seared into them, with the same careful edging the rest of the destruction brought. Fearfully the few Unspeakables who had been elsewhere when h-hour, m-minute had come to call on their home began to copy, collect, and piece together the message the bodies carried, while the Healers wrung their hands in frustration. Nothing, neither spell nor potion, seemed to help the burned husks of men and women.

No soothing pain relief came from even the strongest things Wizarding medicine had available, and the attempts to use muggle drugs, like opium derivatives, which the Healers were aware of, seemingly did no good either. They almost seemed to have been cursed before the blast to respond to no help of any kind.

At the hidden safe house where the Unspeakables had assembled, the puzzle of "the text" was finally beginning to be put together. No pain-wracked body had contained even one complete sentence, but only fragments of many.

**LAST SPIRITUAL TESTAMENT OF HARRY JAMES POTTER**

There you stand, stupid bigots that you are; men and women and oh, let's not forget the toad. Soon you will stand no more, ever, but I curse you with this damnation, before I apply the feather touch I know how to make, I have made a deal with the Universe, whatever future existence awaits each of you, I will be there waiting for you.

**THERE IS NO ESCAPE, EVEN DEATH WILL NOT RESCUE YOU.**

Your stupidity and cupidity will be properly rewarded as I place the tiny touch of magic on the nuclei of "stable" elements and let the first stray neutron take its course.

For I have cursed you to be unable to be destroyed by heat, light, pressure, or any other force you encounter, so that you stay to soak up billions of roentgens … and you will die horribly, cell by cell, and I have cursed you to be aware and fully conscious, though unable to speak, until your last struggling body system shuts down. But you will live, perhaps, to deliver my message.

You have all done me the good turn of assembling here to watch me die, and, so you think, celebrate. But I am the one doing the gloating now, for I shall get to watch ALL of you feel MY WRATH. And then I shall watch each of you drink the bitter dregs of the cup you have mixed for yourself. I have only added the unexpected ingredient to your potion.

The fact that I need no wand and the pretty bracelets you have put on me are useless, are still unknown to you. And I will choose to use those same bracelets you have given me to be your own undoing.

The tiniest of magical tweaks upon the 'strong' and 'weak' nuclear forces, and the shining steel of these pretty 'ornaments' might as well have become Plutonium. Then the result is unstoppable, except that I have created a new ward that will contain it to those who deserve it, and will share it with all places which that ward now encloses.

You killed Hermione before I could stop you and now you propose to kill me.

Little Germs, see what it like, to encounter an Antibiotic!

I have not made any great effort to save those of you who have done me less harm than others, for none of you is innocent. I have left that to Chance or Fate, since all the worst of you lot stand here, smirking, thinking that you have won. Malfoy, Malfoy, Minister, Umbridge, what a company you keep.

And there, in the front and center, stands Albus F**king Dumbledore, thinking how he will craft a new story of how HE defeated Voldemort, like he did with the defeated Grindelwald, when no one else was left to tell the truth.

Well, unfortunately Albus, I have summoned YOUR Horcrux, here into the Alley, since I won't be vaporizing Hogwarts. But IT is toast, and you WILL outlive it, so you cannot return.

Should anyone manage to assemble this message, let this be a warning for all time and for all mankind.

**NEVER THINK YOU CAN SURVIVE THE VENGEANCE OF A RIGHTEOUS MAN**. 


End file.
